Stars and Stripes
by Proud Olympian
Summary: America gets sick, leaving his fifty states to take care of him and take care of each other. He won't going to make it to the world meeting in DC in two days, so one of his states has to fill in for him. Two small problems here: they're in a record-breaking storm, and the United States are America's best-kept secret. As far as the world knows, they don't exist. (Complete)
1. Chapter 1

_What difference if I hail from North or South  
__Or from the East or West?  
__My heart is filled with love for all of these  
__I only know I swell with pride  
__And deep within my breast  
__I thrill to see Old Glory paint the breeze_

* * *

"Alaska! Hawaii! Quit fighting and get yourselves down here for breakfast or we'll start without you!"

At the loud shout, two small children came tumbling down the stairs, completely abandoning their friendly argument over who had the better climate in favor of racing to the dining room. Virginia, the oldest out of everyone present and as such the one in charge, was standing impatiently in front of the large table waiting for them, arms crossed. They dove into their seats at the end and stared innocently at her.

Well, Hawaii was innocent. Alaska had an odd expression similar to her former caretaker, Russia.

Virginia maintained a stern look for only a moment, then grinned.

"All right, is everyone else here?"

From around the massive oaken table came a chorus of replies. Fifty-one places had been set out around the platters of food topped high with pancakes and eggs and a variety of other foods (and far too much bacon than what could possibly be considered healthy), twenty-five down each side and one at the head looking down at all of them.

Fifty children sat on long benches, oldest to youngest going back and forth until the end, where Hawaii and Alaska were sitting. Virginia took the seat to the right of her father's, Delaware took her seat on the left. New York sat next to Delaware while Massachusetts sat next to Virginia, prompting the two to instantly begin a heated argument over baseball and their two sisters to groan. New Hampshire sat next to New York, Connecticut next to Massachusetts, then Maryland and Rhode Island, New Jersey and North Carolina, South Carolina and Pennsylvania, and then finally Georgia, making up the thirteen oldest. After that the children got younger as one looked down the table, from Georgia's appearance of eighteen to Alaska and Hawaii's appearances of five. If someone were to look through the window at that moment, they would probably see assume they were looking at a boarding school.

"Can we eat now?" Idaho called from further down the table, already spearing a couple of hash browns with his fork and putting them on his plate.

Virginia glanced down in his direction to check who was talking out of the sea of faces, then looked pointedly at the empty chair next to her. "We can't start without Father."

Maine, who was pouring everyone glasses of water, waved his free hand dismissively. "Nah, I saw him coming home last night when I was getting myself a drink. He was too tired to notice me, but he went straight to his desk and started working."

The Carolinas groaned in unison. Twin girls, they tended to cause quite a bit of havoc, but could also be incredibly serious when required. "Dad needs to chill," they stated.

"That's putting it simply," Georgia scoffed, her thick southern drawl making it a little bit difficult to understand what she was saying. "He's been overworking himself for weeks, he can't even tell the Dakotas apart half the time."

"And considering I'm a girl," North Dakota began.

"And considering _I'm _a boy-" South continued.

"-that's really saying something, yeah, I get it." Virginia cast another slightly worried look at the empty seat before sitting down herself. "Never mind. We'll let him catch up on sleep, just make sure to save him some leftovers, okay?"

"Okay!"

The younger children down at the far end of the table seemed particularly excited to do something to help their father. It made the older ones smile.

They weren't exactly ordinary children. There were fifty of them, and together they were the United States of America. America himself was their father. Not in the literal sense - as far as any of them could remember, they had been wandering, and then their father had found them, and that was that. No other explanation was necessary. They lived up in a large house in Vermont, a colonial style home built way back when there were just thirteen of them. There were other houses scattered about the country, just so the other states wouldn't feel left out, but they could all still agree that this house was the best. Save for the racket they tended to make, it was always quiet there, and there were plenty of rooms that they could hide in if the noise got too loud.

They were all very mature as well, even the younger nations. They'd been through good times and bad times, and while some of them looked like children they had seen more than the ones who could pass for adults. The original thirteen colonies were the eldest, they had fought in the Revolutionary War and all the wars after that. They watched their siblings when their father was at work, which tended to be a lot of the time, but they didn't mind.

"You're lucky you weren't born with a lisp, Ippi."

"Shut it, _Kansas._"

"It's _Arkansas_. Don't call me some boring old flat piece of nowhere!"

"...Are you implying something about my state?"

"Tornadoes, man."

Which wasn't to say they were mature all of the time. Certainly not.

However, breakfast went on without a hitch. A plate was set aside for America when he awoke, and the rest of the many dishes were dragged off into the kitchen. The Dakota twins had done an experiment involving cheese balls and a rubber duck, so the dishwasher was out of order, but between fifty of them the work went quickly. After that the older colonies left the younger states to their own devices, choosing to let them play in the yard while they did their best to tidy up the place for when their father woke up.

While they were all children, and certainly rambunctious children at that, they still managed to run their states efficiently. It wasn't that hard. They checked on their geographical locations every so often, managed the house and took care of the others when they were sick or hurt. That also extended to taking care of their father, and when lunchtime rolled around and he still hadn't woken up, the Carolinas were sent to go and make sure he wasn't _still _working and had lost track of time. The world meeting would be held in DC in two days, and while it was important, it wasn't quite _that_ important.

The Vermont house was massive, a mansion, really, with enough rooms to fit them all in a few times over along with some guests. The top floor was devoted entirely to bedrooms, and the rest of the floors were solely for food and recreation. Scattered along the walls paneled from floor to ceiling in dark wood were portraits and photographs ranging across hundreds of years.

There was one in the front hallway that was a portrait of all fifty of them, every one of them beaming out from a sea of blonde hair. Photos on the mantle of the fireplace were of them in threes and fours, here and there one could find portraits that had been commissioned of them each individually, but personally, their pride and joy could be found in one of the far back hallways, away from the bedrooms and the noise and clutter of the place. It was old, incredibly so, dating back to the 1700s, and showed a very young America standing proudly next to the thirteen colonies; the date revealed that it had been painted shortly after the Declaration of Independence had been signed.

They weren't proud of what had happened with England, but they _were_ proud because it stood for their freedom. If any of the other nations had found out that America had fifty children, fifty colonies to personify his states, there was always the possibility that they could have been taken over, or kidnapped to get to America. They remained a secret, but they were still proud and they were still free.

North glanced over at South, the two sisters unsure whether to be worried or relieved at the lack of noise coming through their father's door. Either it meant he had left the house in the wee hours of the morning on business, he was still working, or he had finally decided to go to sleep. They hoped it was the latter of the three.

South pushed open the door, her sister following, and they supposed it was a relief then to discover that they were at least partially right.

* * *

**Alrighty then! Trying my hand at a sick!fic, and tossing the fifty states of America into the mix to shake things up a bit. The story is already typed out for the most part, so updates will be coming at a steady, albeit slow, pace. America really ought to slow down with the work, don't you think?**


	2. Chapter 2

The states didn't really poke around in their father's rooms, especially the storage room. Those things were off limits to them. It worked both ways, though – their father didn't go into their rooms most of the time and when he did he generally remembered to knock. Most of the doors had locks on them for privacy's sake and to keep the younger states from getting into anything they weren't supposed to. However, the half-open door and darkened room inside got them to pause before hesitantly walking in.

"Oh, _Father_..."

Most of the bedrooms were about the same in size, although their father's room was a little bit larger as it doubled for a study. Massachusetts had plastered his walls with a mishmash of sports memorabilia and some nautical equipment from his sailing days, New Hampshire's was painted a gentle green and constantly smelled of pine (and occasionally smoke from when he set off firecrackers). It varied from state to state. And while certain personified nations would assume their father's room to be a mess or plastered from ceiling to floor with red-white-and-blue anything, it was generally rather tidy and there was only a single flag on the dark blue walls, hanging over the bed. The color scheme _did _follow the colors of their country's flag, but not to any extremes.

As it was _now_, very unusually, there were several fast food and takeout containers that had been tossed in the vague direction of the trash can, papers scattered across their father's desk, and the map on the far wall had been covered in tacks and photos and pieces of string along with scribbled notes everywhere, creating a myriad of lines in a complicated web they could hardly make heads or tails of. A stack of books was teetering next to the desk chair, a dim computer screen showed a correspondence with government officials over the current state of the economy, and their father, amidst the mess, was curled up on his side on the bed. He hadn't bothered to take his shoes off, or even remembered to get under the covers, it seemed. He was just curled up underneath his aviator jacket, shivering slightly.

"What time did Maine say he got home?" North asked softly, picking her way around the trash on the floor to straighten some papers at the desk.

South just shook her head, opening the door wider to let in enough light that they didn't trip before moving towards the bed. "He didn't, just said it was late. What time do those emails say?"

North leaned over to jiggle the mouse and peer at the screen. "...Three," she said after a long pause. "AM."

South snorted. "Right, then. Best let him sleep, I suppose. Mind helping me take his shoes off?"

"Ew!" The other state wrinkled her nose. "I'm not helping you change Dad into pajamas."

South promptly chucked a pen at her, and it bounced harmlessly off of the wall. "No! Just help me take off his shoes and get him so he isn't freezing out here."

"Chill, chill, I was _joking_..."

They tugged the jacket off, America curling in further on himself at the sudden exposure to cool air, and started to tug his shoes off of his feet. North paused when she went to adjust the blankets, however, and quickly pressed her hand against her father's cheek. South frowned.

"Caroline?" she asked, repeating herself when she didn't get an answer initially. "Caroline? Hey, you still in there?"

"Can you grab a thermometer for me?" North finally asked. "He's burning up."

"You sure?" The state reached over and pressed her hand to her father's forehead. She trusted her sister's judgment, it was just that America didn't _get _sick. At all. Ever. The last time any of them could remember him actually being anything resembling ill was during the Civil War, and they _knew _there was nothing like that brewing. Certainly they would feel it too. Her genial expression dropped into a frown. "Right. Thermometer. There's one in the bathroom, isn't there?"

Typical of herself, she was out the door before anyone could reply, leaving North to tut softly and set her father's shoes by the door. South hurried back in a few moments later and turned on the light, so the other state lightly shook the nation by the shoulder.

"Dad," she said softly. No response. "Dad, c'mon."

"Mmm- m'wake," he slurred out, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and trying to curl in on himself all the more.

South rolled her eyes. "Come on, Pops, open your eyes for us."

Mumbling incoherently, bleary blue eyes cracked open and squinted against the sudden light. "Hmm?" And a moment later he shot bolt upright, pushing at the covers with shaking fingers. "Wha-? Did- _shit_, Gin, when's the meeting? Am I late-"

"Dad!" North shouted, effectively getting her father's mouth to snap shut with an audible _click_. "Virginia's not here," she said gently, pushing him back. "It's just me and Caroline. North and South Carolina. Just stay still for a moment, we gotta check your temperature."

America shrunk backwards from the small plastic thermometer. "'m fine," he said quickly, so fast that it was probably instinct by now.

"You're shivering," South responded calmly. "And you're face is flushed and you feel warm to us. If it'd make you happier we could call the gang in and they can hold you down?"

Her father sighed. "Virginia, I'm-"

The twins took advantage of his open mouth to stick the thermometer in, ignoring the fact that he couldn't differentiate them from their sister. The glare he leveled at them was positively mutinous, but they knew he didn't mean anything by it. None of them liked to be taken care of when they were sick, they either preferred to struggle on through it or to crawl into their rooms and take care of themselves without any help. Strong sense of pride and nationalism.

At the small _beep-beep _signaling that the device had finished they pulled it from his mouth and frowned in unison at the results.

"See?" their father mumbled. "'m _fine_. Now shush, I was sleeping..."

The thermometer was blinking out a reading of one hundred and two degrees.

North tugged her sister across the room to murmur quietly, "I'm going to go grab Virginia and the other thirteen. Make sure the little ones don't find out."

South raised a delicate blonde eyebrow even as she nodded. "You wanna hide this from them?"

"Do _you _want to tell them that their father overworked himself to the point where he's practically unconscious and sick? Alaska will be worked up over it for weeks, and they're already worried enough over York and Louis."

The two states had been the main target of hurricanes in years past. Louisiana had been pushing himself around in a wheelchair for the past few years after Katrina, and New York was hobbling around on crutches months after Sandy.

"Fair point. Fine, no announcements, I'll make sure it's just the two of us before I say anything, but they got to know eventually, understand?"

"_Yes_, North..."

* * *

Virginia, being the oldest out of all of them (although Delaware was technically the oldest when it came to statehood) managed most of the house while their father was away on business. It was a lot of work, especially considering that while they were all a few hundred years old they still held the maturity of children most of the time, and therefore she had to deal with forty nine children on a daily basis. Thankfully most everyone was quiet. A few of the states were poking around their land today, just checking in on everything. Massachusetts, in the wake of the bombings, had taken one of their cars down to Boston, and York was somewhere in Manhattan.

Alaska and Hawaii were quietly sitting at the bottom of the stairs, still enough that South Carolina almost tripped over them.

"Hey there, you two!" she said with a bright smile, sitting down next to them and doing her best to hide her worry. "How's things been?"

"I'm explaining to Aria about the flowers," Hawaii said proudly. "Yellow hibisiscusesis."

The older state chuckled at the mispronunciation. "It's _hibiscus_, Hadwin."

"Close 'nuff!"

"They sound pretty," Alaska said quietly. "Maybe I can grow some in my room." She turned her wide violet eyes onto South. "I can grow some, da? Next to my sunflowers?"

"I think we can work something out," she agreed with a soft smile.

"Here, I have some! I have pictures and some real flowers, I can show you!" Hawaii grabbed the smaller state by the hand and started pulling her along, chattering with a bright smile. South shook her head fondly. Alaska wasn't exactly... stable, especially not after spending so long under Russia's ownership. They were fairly sure that the former superpower had never met the state, but either way his influence had a massive impact on her. To the contrary, Hawaii also had a massive impact. The states argued quite frequently over climate, but being so close together in age they were rather good friends.

She stood up and kept hurrying through the house until she found Virginia, who was in the middle of an argument with Georgia and Alabama. That was normal – Georgia worried over Alexandra and Virginia worried over all of them, and considering the younger southern state quite frequently forgot to take medication for her diabetes they tried to keep a close eye on her.

"I'm telling you, I remembered-"

"I've been with you the whole _day_," Georgia countered. "You haven't- oh, hey there Caroline- you haven't-"

But in the moment of distraction when the two states turned to spare their other sister a brief glance, Alabama had darted off around the corner. Georgia shot a pleading look up at the ceiling as though begging to some higher power before following after.

Virginia offered up a rather exhausted smile, though it was genuine. "Hey there, little sister. You seen Vermont around? There's reports of a bad storm coming in and I want to check on him first, see if he knows anything."

The states had a bit of a sixth sense when it came to impending disasters, storms included. If they were going to get hammered by a rainstorm – or heaven forbid, a hurricane, considering it _was _the season – Vermont would definitely know. The other New England states would probably have an idea as well.

"Nah, haven't seen him, Gin, but come on, we gotta talk to you." She turned and started walking, Virginia falling into step alongside her.

"Dad's sick," she explained in as low of a tone as she could manage without attracting the attention of Alaska and Hawaii off in the corner. The young boy had retrieved the flowers from his room and was regaling his little sister with tales of the tropical islands he was so connected to. "Found him curled up on his bed under his jacket, he's got a fever of a hundred and two. He's insisting that he's fine, which is definitely Dad for you, but we figure that we just tell the top thirteen here and leave the younger kids out of it. They'll worry too much if they think he's sick enough that he can't leave his room."

The two stopped at a window and looked out at the sprawling grass, the sky rapidly growing darker by the minute, the pine trees swaying in the blustering wind.

"There's nothing going on with the land," Virginia said after a very long pause, her gaze never once leaving the horizon. "Aside from this storm, I mean. We'd know. So that means he's gotta be sick from an actual disease. Has that ever happened before?"

"Rhodey got sick once," South pointed out. It was long before they had grown to such a massive country, when it was just the thirteen of them living on a plantation in rural Massachusetts. He'd come down with some sort of virus and had been bedridden for about a week. Then he was up and about again and everything was right back to normal.

"Hopefully it's nothing serious." She sighed, tugging at a strand of her hair. "I'll let the others know, you go back and help North."

"Sounds like a plan."

South Carolina returned back the way she had came from, but Virginia remained staring out the window for a few more minutes.

"Just hope this storm doesn't hit too hard," she muttered under her breath, and then she, too, was gone.

* * *

**North Carolina – Caroline Kirkland-Jones, referred to as "North"  
****South Carolina – Carol Kirkland-Jones, referred to as "South"  
****Virginia – Virginia Kirkland-Jones (name frequently shortened)  
****Louisiana – Louis Bonnefoy-Jones  
****Georgia – Georgia Kirkland-Jones  
****Alabama – Alexandra Jones  
****Alaska – Aria Braginski-Jones  
****Hawaii – Hadwin Jones  
****Rhode Island – Robert "Rhodey" Kirkland-Jones**


	3. Chapter 3

When South Carolina got back to her father's room it was to find her sister in the middle of an argument with a rather delirious America.

"'m _fine_, Dakota-"

"Dad, I'm North Carolina. Carol." North shook her head. "Dad, just stay in bed and try and get some sleep, _please_."

But tired as he was, America was already drifting back into unconsciousness before she had finished her sentence.

"Totally fine," South said dryly. "Completely, totally fine."

"He's worse than York when he's sick," her sister mumbled. "Oh, this is just going to be _fun_."

"And the meeting is in two days." At the piece of information the state let out a curse. "He's not going to be back up on his feet by then."

"...Damn."

* * *

"Hey, Rhodey!"

The state of Rhode Island glanced up, entirely expecting another comment on his height or something similar to that effect, only to see eleven of his older siblings crowding around him, looking rather worried. He hoped that none of them had gotten back from their states with bad news, that would be _particularly_ bad, especially with New York and Massachusetts already in bad condition.

"I plead the fifth?" he said after a moment as they all went to take seats around the spacious living room.

Delaney rolled her eyes while New York let out a short laugh.

"Nah," he said. "We aren't here to yell at you, it's an emergency family meeting."

"Shut it, Steven."

"What the hell did I do this time, Patrick?"

"Did you see that game last night you little-"

Before they could get into another fully-fledged argument over baseball, Pennsylvania and New Hampshire reached over to hit them both upside the head. Cringing, they glared at their siblings, but went silent.

"Are you two done now?" Delaney muttered. "When we say emergency family meeting, it tends to be because there's an _emergency_."

"So what's the emergency?" Georgia cut in quickly.

Virginia turned her gaze towards the Carolina twins, who let out sighs.

"Dad's sick," North said bluntly.

"Like, really sick," South agreed. "You know how he works obsessively to keep up with everything."

"And he's managed to get himself bedridden because he's the hero and doesn't get sick?" Jersey sighed, looking like he already knew the answer.

"Pretty much," South confirmed.

Maryland responded by letting her head fall onto the arm of the chair she sat in with a thud. Massachusetts raised an eyebrow.

"You okay there, Marilyn?"

She lifted her head up briefly to give him an exasperated glance. "World Meeting's in two days, Patrick, and Dad's unconscious."

North and South already having come to this conclusion, they waited for the others to digest the new information.

"Don't suppose we could cancel?" Connecticut suggested weakly.

Virginia shook her head. "Out of the question, Connie. All the nations are already in DC, and the boss would _flip _if he had to send them all home."

"Not to mention that Mr. President doesn't actually know about us, either..." Rhodey pointed out. "And there's kind of a storm brewing. All the airports are going to be closed down the East Coast."

"'Kay, so what do we do?" Delaware adjusted the strap of her overalls. "What if Dad's not feeling better by tomorrow?"

The thirteen states glanced between one another, at a bit of a loss. It wasn't as though they didn't know what to do without their father – being a country took work and he was generally spending time at the White House or hurrying about going from one meeting to another, leaving them to look after each other and their siblings. They just didn't know what to do when their father was _sick_. It wasn't as though that had never happened before, either; it had, just not for any reason other than the state of the country, and he'd never given them a backup plan if he couldn't make it to a world meeting.

"If Tony weren't back at the New York house fixing the damage from Hawaii's pineapple bomb, I'd say we just go and get him to zap Dad better," York sighed.

Massachusetts snorted. "I doubt Tony can do that, Yankee."

"Would you stop it already?!"

Pennsylvania and New Hampshire reached over to slap them both upside the head again. "Both of you shut the hell up," Pennsylvania said firmly.

"Why doesn't one of us go?" North suggested after a few more minutes of fruitless arguing. "Like Mass or York or Hampshire, and we can put glass lenses in Dad's glasses instead of the prescription ones-"

"-and get you guys into one of your suits and Dad's bomber jacket," South continued. "Dad's got all his notes written out and stuff, we just gotta find where he's left them all scattered." Their father was _not _the most organized person. "All we gotta do it get you a costume. You'll know what's going on, we can relay any information you don't have, and you can give the speeches and whatever."

The others were nodding thoughtfully, but Hampshire shook his head.

"I couldn't be the one to do it," he told them. "My eyes aren't the same color."

"I can't act worth beans," Mass added.

"So you admit something-"

"You be quiet-"

_Thud._

Pennsylvania and New Hampshire hit them both upside the head for a third time.

New York glared, rubbing the back of his head, but continued to speak. "_Please_ refrain from speaking, dearest brother, while I attempt to explain my thoughts on the matter." Massachusetts just returned the glare. "I was _going _to say that I could go in Dad's place. I can act, I'm about the same height as Dad, and I'll be happy to throw some tea at England or something."

The others snickered.

"Do you think you'll be all right for the day, Steven?" Virginia looked at the crutches leaning against the arm of the couch.

York made a face. "I've been itching to burn those things for months."

"Okay, we got one thing out of the way." Pennsylvania started scribbling notes on a clipboard. "We should probably keep the kids away from Dad's room, we don't want them catching whatever he's got. York's filling in at the meeting – anyone heard anything about that storm yet?"

"Yeah, I was listening to the radio on the drive back home," York stated. "They're saying it'll be a tropical storm at worst, but it's due to hit at high tide and it's been raining on and off for a while, so there's high probabilities of flooding. Torrential rain, high windspeeds, the works."

"They might be evacuating parts of Cape Cod," Mass added.

Marilyn spoke up from her chair. "Last I heard from Vermont he was getting a bit queasy, so I gave him some crackers. We're gonna want to get everything cleaned up and stay inside for the next few days."

"What if it gets worse?" Delaware was bouncing the heel of her right foot off the toe of her left, then flipping the process, and tapping her fingers on the arm of the couch. "There's a rainstorm coming, so we might not be able to call for help, and York's going to be in DC acting as Dad for the meeting."

"He won't get worse," New Jersey was quick to dismiss the idea. "This is Dad we're talking about, he never lets anything get him down for long. He can fight this off quickly enough and be at the meeting before it's over."

South smiled. "Good to hear it, Jersey."

"I think we should watch Dad in shifts?" Pennsylvania suggested. "Just so he doesn't try and start working again while he's sick. South, you said North was there, right?"

"Yeah. Why don't we just rotate from there-"

"By height?" Mass cut in. "Can we do it by height?"

"But _brother_!" York slung an arm over his shoulders. "_Surely_ you wouldn't want to mock our poor, vertically challenged little sibling about his stunted skeletal structure?"

Rhodey was already on his feet, hands clenched into fists. "Oh, you wanna go there? Come on, say it to my face, I dare you-!"

"Get off of me, Yankee!" Mass shoved his brother away, sending him crashing into Georgia, knocking her mug of iced tea onto the ground. She glared, opening her mouth to speak.

The shriek of a whistle got them all to be silent. Virginia was staring at them calmly, meeting each one of their gazes until they slunk back to their seats and folded their hands neatly in their laps, not saying a word.

"As I was saying," South Carolina finally said. "We can go in shifts, just rotate down from oldest to youngest from North. That'd put Rhodey next, then Delaney, Penn, Jersey, Georgia, and so on."

"Works for me," Pennsylvania agreed, continuing to take notes on her clipboard. "All in favor?" Everyone raised their hands, so she nodded and smiled. "Ah, the joys of democracy."

Each of the states sat back in their respective chairs and couches, not entirely sure what else there was left to say, but finally New Hampshire cleared his throat and clapped his hands together.

"Right then! Who's up for dinner?"

* * *

Rhode Island pushed his pie around on the paper plate he was holding with his fork, occasionally spearing a piece of apple or glancing up at his father's prone form. It wasn't _right _to see him so still. He was supposed to be up and laughing, announcing crazy ideas and declaring himself the hero. They should all be crowded around the dinner table exchanging ridiculous theories and tossing jokes back and forth, not bringing dinner up on a plate in order to hold vigil.

And almost as if he could hear his son's thoughts, America started to stir. Pie abandoned, he quickly rushed to his father's side.

"Dad?" he asked softly. "Hey, Pops, you awake?"

Blue eyes blinked open, America tried to focus on his face, but a moment later he was bolt upright, hand clasped over his mouth while the other pushed at the blankets. He let out a muffled, choked sound, seemingly unable to form words.

Rhodey lunged for the trash can, and just barely managed to shove it onto the bed before his father was violently sick, back heaving as he gripped the plastic bin tightly in his shaking hands. The noises made Rhodey a little bit sick himself, but he just made a face and patted his father's back in sympathy while his stomach emptied itself of its contents, which he presumed was the takeout from the empty containers they had thrown out earlier.

"Hey, Dad," he said once the noises had stopped. "Dad, I'm going to go get you some water, okay? Just stay awake for me, keep holding that bucket."

The response was another round of vomiting.

Rhode Island grimaced and went to retrieve a cup.

* * *

**New York – Steven Kirkland-Jones, sometimes referred to as York  
****Massachusetts – Patrick Kirkland-Jones, sometimes referred to as Mass  
****New Hampshire – Jacob Kirkland-Jones, sometimes referred to as Hampshire  
****Connecticut – Constance "Connie" Kirkland-Jones  
****Delaware – Delaney Kirkland-Jones  
****New Jersey – James Kirkland-Jones, sometimes referred to as Jersey  
****Maryland – Marilyn "Mary" Kirkland-Jones  
****Pennsylvania – Sylvia Kirkland-Jones**

**Poor America. At least he's got his kids to take care of him.**

**And for a happy announcement, I've got the rest of the chapters for this story written out! So updates are going to be coming a lot more frequently now. Please let me know if you spot any mistakes in my writing, I'm open for constructive criticism.**


	4. Chapter 4

Rhodey had informed Delaware that their father was currently awake when she came in an hour later, although he wasn't really up for doing much of anything and he was going to go and get some broth in the hopes that he'd keep something down when he was done, and did they have any crackers left?

Delaney made a face similar to the one that he had made at the sight of their dad hunched over a plastic trash can, but yes, they did have crackers and broth sounded like it would be good. Rhodey nodded, left, and the First State went over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Hello, Father," she said.

"Hnn... h-hey, kiddo...!" America glanced up, managing a smile. "Sorry 'bout the fuss."

She placed a hand on his shoulder sympathetically.

Truth be told, the nation looked horrible. There were heavy bags under his eyes, which were closer to a dishwater gray than the vibrant blue they normally were. His bangs were plastered to his forehead and his skin was clammy.

"Don't worry about it," she told him. "Rhodey's going to go and get some crackers for you, and some broth. I'm going to be up here for a bit, and then Jersey's going to come and stay with you. We're taking shifts."

"Oh, you don't have to do that..." The shaking of his voice said otherwise, but she bit her tongue and didn't comment. "You all need your sleep, I think there's a storm coming..."

"Yeah, we gathered as much," she sighed. "That why you're feeling queasy, d'you think?"

"Mmmf...!" He started to nod, but then his eyes widened and he was hunched back over the bucket again.

She sighed heavily again and patted his back, wincing in sympathy as he struggled for air between heaves. When he had finished, what seemed like several minutes later but was probably less than a few, he sat back against the pillow and let out a shaky breath, shoulders trembling.

"I _hate _this," he muttered, glaring pointedly at the ceiling, and Delaware came to a small understanding.

Their father was very proud, and sometimes his boasts about being the hero were not just about keeping up appearances. Everyone knew he had power, and _he _knew he had power. He liked the situation to be controllable, preferably by him, but he was willing to let someone with a sturdy head on their shoulders call the shots. And he could _never _stand to be seen as weak. If he was weak, nobody would respect him, or acknowledge his opinions, and he would be virtually ignored. At least, that was the logic he ran by. The States knew differently – while there were some countries that might laugh or mock or tease (and those countries would have fifty angry states to deal with if they ever went too far) most of them would be genuinely concerned if a fellow nation became ill.

Illness for nations was a serious matter; they had much stronger immune systems than normal people so if they got sick it was generally due to something happening to the physical land. Politics, storms, wildfires, economic troubles, an epidemic of some sort... And just because two countries were not necessarily on the best of terms, that didn't mean that the _nations_, the personified aspects of them were on bad terms. Sometimes, but not always. They were a few billion dollars in debt to China, but at World Meetings the two would greet each other with a friendly smile, _Kiku _to _Alfred_, not _Japan _to _America_.

And here Alfred F. Jones, United States of America, was so sick he could hardly breathe, unable to leave his bed, and being tended to by his children.

"Oh, shut up," she scoffed, and he looked at her in shock, not expecting the coarse reply. "You think we think any less of you for this?" He opened his mouth to reply, but Delaware plowed on. "York is jumping with glee because he finally gets to leave the house. He's planning on burning his crutches before he goes and takes your place at the meeting – and yes, he's doing that. He's happy he gets the chance to act. He's even being friendly to Patrick!" She chuckled. "Kinda creepy, honestly. You've taken care of us for what's nearing two hundred and fifty years, and that's no small feat when you remember that there's fifty of us and we just barely make it through dinner without starting a full-blown argument."

Even America had to crack a smile at that, so she kept talking. "During the Revolutionary War, you kept us safe, and then during the- the Civil War, you kept going even though you were- you were falling _apart _and you let the others right back into the house when they showed up, and you went straight through the Great Depression even though the country was starving and you made sure we always had enough food. You wrote every day during the World Wars, and no matter what happens you pick yourself up and you keep us safe and you keep going. If you think for a _second _that we're going to think you're weak just because you're sick, then you really gotta reevaluate your thoughts!"

Her hands were shaking slightly at the end of the impromptu rant, and father and daughter stared at each other for a several silent moments.

"Hey." Alfred smiled weakly and reached up to place a clammy hand on the side of her face. "You're a good daughter, you know that? You're a good kid..."

He yawned and sank back into his pillow a bit more, so she gently took the bucket away while pointedly avoiding looking at its contents, and helped him lie down before tucking the blankets around him. He was asleep within seconds, face still flushed and expression mildly discontent, but not as much as it had been before.

Delaware sank heavily into the chair next to the bed and propped her feet up on the edge of the mattress, murmuring her thanks when Rhodey quietly crept in carrying some broth and crackers, setting them down on the nightstand before quietly creeping back out again.

* * *

Morning came with the wind doing its very best to bang down the doors and batter the windows into shards, and the New England states all feeling a bit queasy and lightheaded, but according to the various weather reports they had seen it was going to get worse.

Record hurricane of the year for their area, and with Sandy happening just last year they were going to be in trouble soon. Winds were supposed to hit up to eighty miles per hour and while the storm was most likely going to degenerate into a tropical storm or just a normal rainstorm by the time it hit, it was slow-moving and looked like it was going to stick around for a little while.

With the meeting tomorrow and a storm on its way, they did their best to get York out the door by lunchtime. He couldn't actually burn his crutches, since they were metal and they didn't have any firewood they could use that wasn't damp, but he found a sledgehammer from somewhere and let the younger states take turns beating them into an unidentifiable heap of scrap metal.

Patrick had figured out where the notes for the meeting were from their father, and Georgia had managed to come up with a Bluetooth headset in case York needed information he didn't have on the spot. Hawaii insisted that the other state take a hibiscus flower with him for good luck, and could he dress up too, since big brother was dressing up like Daddy?

York laughed. "Sorry, buddy, it's not Halloween yet. But I promise you can dress up then, all right?"

"Okay!" the younger state cheered.

"You drive carefully," Mass muttered rather huffily, arms crossed. "My sports teams need some Yankees to beat every now and again."

"I'll come home just for you, brother mine," York replied with a smile.

He was wearing a suit, similar to the ones that America would wear for the meetings, and his father's leather jacket. He had a single suitcase with him, along with keys to their father's DC apartment and his cell phone, and all the notes he would need were tucked neatly into a folder.

"Seriously, though, drive safe," Virginia ordered. "The roads will be slippery, and I'm not dealing with you on crutches again."

Maryland snickered. The state had been impossible to deal with when he was awake and energetic but not healed enough to leave his bed. Once he had finally gotten crutches, he had still been confined to a few rooms in the house, and much to his humiliation he'd needed help getting up and down the stairs, and occasionally needed someone to carry him.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said dismissively. "Dudes, I'll be fine. I'm the hero!"

They all cracked a smile at the impersonation of their father, and forty-nine states waved goodbye as he hopped into one of the cars and drove away.

Kentucky, the oldest of the states excluding the thirteen original colonies and Vermont (who was spending most of the time curled up on the couch asleep), ushered the younger states off, leaving twelve of them standing in the front hallway.

"Whose turn is it to sit with Dad?" Hampshire asked.

"Mine, I think." Sylvia went towards the stairs. "Youse guys should probably get everything secured for when this storm hits. I can tell it's gonna be a real doozy, the coastline's starting to get hammered."

"See, she says 'youse' too!" Jersey protested.

Rhodey shook his head. "That is _not _how you pluralize the word 'you'. You don't even pluralize you, it's just the word _you_."

"Obviously, it's y'all," Georgia said with a firm nod.

"I'm not having this argument again." Hampshire and Connie quickly left the room. It was one of their more common fights, one that, by this point, they nearly had down word for word.

"Same," the Carolina twins agreed in unison.

Virginia tutted, shaking her head. "It's y'all, trust me."

"Youse guys!"

"No, seriously, it's just _you_."

"You guys! That's all there is to it!"

"Quiet, Mass."

Kentucky poked his head through the door. "Would you all quiet down?" he demanded. "We're trying to read in here."

Delaware jerked her thumb over at Kentucky. "He says it's you all."

At least some things in the house were going normally.

* * *

**Vermont – Gregory Jones  
****Kentucky – Kevin Jones**


	5. Chapter 5

For someone who had been bedridden for several months, followed by being confined to crutches, followed by having to impersonate his father because said father's coworkers didn't know that he had kids and they couldn't fill in for him, New York wasn't doing all that bad.

He got to the apartment in DC after many, many hours of driving, and parked his car in a reserved spot. Smiled to the receptionist, kept the smile in place as he went up the many many flights of stairs, continued to smile until he shut the door behind him, and then let out a weary sigh.

His legs hurt after all that driving.

Flopping down onto the couch, setting his suitcase by his feet, York kicked off his shoes and pulled his cell phone out from his father's suit pocket. No, _his _suit pocket. He was acting a part here, he wasn't Steven Kirkland-Jones, he was Alfred F. Jones, USA. The meeting was tomorrow, he had everything with him, but right now it was late and storming, and it was time to make a phone call.

"_Hello?"_

"Hadwin!" he exclaimed, plastering a smile on his face and pushing away the exhaustion in his voice to substitute it for enthusiasm. "How's it going, little man?"

"_Good!" _Hawaii was as cheerful as ever. _"Do you have my hibiscus, big brother?"_

"That I do," he laughed. He'd tucked it into his suit pocket and had forgotten about it during the long drive, which got him a few strange looks when he went to grab a bite to eat before continuing on. No matter, his brother gave it to him, so he was going to keep it. "And I have to say, I look pretty dashing." Hawaii giggled. "Now, can you pass me to one of your older sisters? Delaney or Penn or Mass?"

"_But big brother Patrick isn't my sister!" _Hawaii giggled again. York could hear the pitter-patter of footsteps and outraged shouts from Massachusetts in the background, and then Hawaii chattering to one of the older thirteen. Steven sunk further back into the couch and waited patiently until a relieved voice came through.

"_Steven!" _It was Virginia, and she sounded rather tired. _"You got there okay? Nothing happened?"_

"Nothing happened," he agreed, looking out the window. "Although I think it's starting to rain."

"_Just starting? We're getting pummeled up here. If we have to take Dad to the hospital..." _Her voice dropped so the younger children wouldn't overhear, and he could practically see her worried expression. _"He was up earlier, we got to help him downstairs so he could sit on the couch. Had lunch in the living room with everyone on the floor, which the little ones seemed to enjoy. But his fever's still up, it's past a hundred and three and it's not dropping-"_

"Breathe, Gin!" he soothed, although he himself was starting to drum his fingers on the armrest anxiously. Nervous habit, he was trying to break it. "He's gonna be fine. This isn't any different from those times when we show up at meetings with him as a 'government official'. No one's going to figure out that he was never here, and Dad's going to be up and gallivanting about before you know it."

She gave a weak chuckle. _"And then I'll be back to being a mother of fifty."_

"Hey!" he shouted indignantly. "I will have you know that I am a completely mature adult!"

"_You helped the Dakota twins destroy our dishwasher for the fourth time."_

"You never proved that was me."

She laughed again, and he smiled to himself. Keep them all smiling, keep them together, that was all he needed to do. _"Sure. Anything else?"_

"Nah, not really. I've got everything with me. Meeting starts at ten o'clock tomorrow, so keep in mind while you deal with fifty arguing children, I'm dealing with two hundred arguing countries."

"_I think you might have the better end of the deal," _she replied, but her tone made it clear she was joking. _"Stay safe, okay? We'll call again tomorrow to let you know how things are going."_

"Got it. And you guys hang in there too. DC is getting hit with the edge of this thing, you're smack in the middle of it. I don't want anyone leaving the house unless..." _Unless Dad needs it. _"...it's an emergency, okay?"

"_You aren't __**actually **__our father," _Virginia teased. _"But don't worry, all the doors have been locked, the windows fastened. We're going to wait this one out."_

"You do that. Give my favorite sister my love!"

"_I'm not telling that to Mass."_

"...How'd you know I was talking about him?"

"_I can hear him fuming from two floors away."_

"Ah." They shared a laugh. "But seriously, tell everyone I said hey, and that I'll be back soon."

"_Will do, brother dearest. Talk to you tomorrow."_

"Tomorrow," he echoed as the dial tone rang out, the only sound save the rain now spattering against the windows. Sighing again, he stood up, tucking his phone back into his pocket and looking out at the streets many, many stories below. "Tomorrow."

* * *

The first day of the World Meeting dawned... or perhaps it would be better to say that it _didn't _dawn. Everyone was being advised to stay off the roads as much as possible and not to go anywhere unless they absolutely _had _to. Steven got into his car and started driving.

He smiled to the receptionist and held up his ID, flashing her a thumbs up when she waved him through. He could see other countries scattered about, some of them rather exhausted from jet lag and some of them just exhausted in general. Greece, for one, had fallen asleep on Japan's shoulder, and the quiet man looked rather uncomfortable with the entire situation.

Steven snickered at went to the meeting room.

A couple nations glanced up at his entrance, curious as to who it was, then went back to their original conversations. He walked over, plopped down in a seat next to Canada, who looked rather startled, pulled out a hamburger and bit into it with a contented sigh.

"Those things really aren't that good for you," the northern American nation pointed out in a quiet whisper. The polar bear... Kuma-something? Kumajiro, that was it! Kumajiro was curled up in his lap, snuffling occasionally.

"Nah, don't worry about it," he replied brightly after swallowing. "Can't get sick unless there's a problem with the land, after all!"

"That's not how it works, you git," England muttered, sitting down across the table, a couple seats to the right of being opposite Steven. "Although at least you've got some manners. Swallowing before you speak, _quite _an improvement."

He had to force himself to keep smiling in the face of the comments. He wouldn't mind if the comments were aimed at _him_, but towards his father... that was a bit of a problem. He ate the rest of the hamburger, talking to Canada around mouthfuls of food, pleased beyond belief at the way England's caterpillar eyebrows furrowed together the more upset he got.

Canada, to his credit, made no comment. As a matter of fact, he had probably caught on to what Steven was doing and was going along with it.

"You shouldn't upset him quite so much," he whispered when the burger was finished. Steven glanced at him.

"And why not?" he countered, still speaking loudly, as was normal for his father, but not enough that it would carry to other people. "Come on, dude, his _eyebrows_. Look at them."

Canada's lips twitched as he tried not to laugh. "But it's rude."

"Polite to the end, aren't you, Mattie?" He tutted, shaking his head. "Huh, Germany's starting to talk."

The blond man did indeed start to talk, getting everyone to settle down, if only temporarily. Then it was Steven's turn to make a speech, in which he included some of the more ridiculous ideas that they had come up with one dinner, something about robots and giant feats of technology that weren't quite possible. It prompted a sufficient about of eye-rolling and groans and muttered comments that he wasn't meant to hear, which was what he was going for – keep up the whole underestimated thing. And after that it was dull, boring speech after dull, boring speech.

How did Dad _manage _this? He slept for twelve hours last night after the drive and he was trying hard not to doze off!

Greece was snoring, still passed out on Japan's shoulder. Even the ever-proper Austria looked like he was trying hard not to sleep. Russia was nodding off, but nobody had the guts to poke him awake whenever it happened and all chose to ignore it. To keep himself occupied, he settled for doodling on the margins of his notes, and when he had finished with one he was particularly proud of, he crumpled the paper up and threw it so it hit England in the head. The Briton glared furiously, unfolded it, and glared even more, turning a remarkable shade of purple.

Canada looked at him warily, then leaned over to Steven "What did you do, Al?"

"Just drew his eyebrows," he replied with a smirk. "That's all."

* * *

The next day went much the same, Canada seeming quite surprised to have his southern neighbor talking to him so much, Steven antagonizing England more on behalf of his siblings than keeping up appearances, not very much getting done at the meeting. Virginia kept him regularly updated, although their conversations were becoming shorter as the hurricane battered against them. It was supposed to be blowing over by tonight, thank goodness, but Steven was anxious to get back home to them. As much fun as it was to get out of the house, and as much of a relief as it was to get away from the noise, under these circumstances it wasn't very good.

He found himself sitting with his uncle, while in the guise of his father and therefore his uncle's brother, which was a little bit strange. It was during the lunch break, and he was eating yet another hamburger to keep up appearances while Matthew picked his way through a salad. It was also during this time that his phone rang.

Matthew shrugged and motioned for him to go ahead. Steven kept his smile on his face, although inwardly he was starting to panic. _They weren't supposed to call until tonight..._

"'Sup, dudes," he said in a completely relaxed tone of voice, leaning back in his chair.

"_Steven- Steven-!"_

For Massachusetts to be willingly calling him, much less without an insult at hand, it couldn't be good. The dread solidified like a lead ball in his stomach.

"_Steven, we're taking Dad to the hospital. We think it's this storm, he won't wake up, he's delirious-" _A shuddering gasp. _"Six of us are going with, everyone else is staying behind. It's the one in Springfield, it's the closest to us-"_

"Mas-" Steven cut himself off before he could say _Massachusetts _in a cafeteria full of nations. "Patrick, come on, focus. Deep breaths."

"_Not going to help the situation, Yankee!"_

"You're insulting me, that's good." The chair went back to all fours with a _clunk_. Matthew kept shooting him odd looks across the table, but he was ignored. "Patrick, listen. Normally I'd catch a flight to Lebanon, but the airports are all closed because of the storm. I'm driving up, I'll be there in seven hours."

The drive down had taken him nearly eight, but he figured he could shave some time off.

"Now calm down, and _explain _what's happening."

"_Okay." _He sounded marginally calmer, but that was enough. _"Okay. Um... I'm going, Virginia's driving, Hampshire and Rhodey are coming, and so's Penn and Jersey. Dad's- he's got a fever up around a hundred and six, and Virginia said she didn't care that there was a hurricane, but we had to do something. Biologically, he's human, the hospital will be safe for him, and I think someone's making a call to some government doctor that knows about us. Well, him. No one really knows about us-"_

"Hang in there, Patrick." Steven got to his feet and tugged his coat on while balancing the phone, leaving the hamburger half-eaten on its plate. He didn't actually like hamburgers that much, truth be told. "Seven hours, okay? And I want you to keep me updated."

"_Y-yeah. No problem. Seven hours?"_

"Seven hours," he repeated.

"_Hurry, Steven."_

He all but flew over to another table, where Southern Italy was engaged in a conversation with a couple other of the European countries. "Hey, Italy!" he laughed. He couldn't smile, but he could act. "Listen, d'you mind telling Germany that I'm not going to be there for the rest of the meeting? Country business, can't miss it."

"Ve~!" Italy smiled up at him. "Of course, America! Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it, dude. Just some country stuff! President's on my case half the time." He laughed again, walked as normally as he could out of the doors of the cafeteria, and broke into a run. The receptionist at the desk looked startled as he tore past, but he paid her no attention. The door to the car was unlocked the instant the remote unlocker came in range. Hand on the door handle, he made to all but jump in and take off for home, only to have a second hand slam down on top of the door, preventing it from opening.

Steven turned to see a pair of narrow violet eyes.

"I don't know who you are," Canada said quietly, Kumajiro in one arm. "But you've been acting strangely all week, and you _aren't _my brother. So if you aren't America, then _who are you_?"

...Shit.

* * *

**Canada – Matthew Williams**


	6. Chapter 6

"I don't know who you are," Canada said quietly, Kumajiro in one arm. "But you've been acting strangely all week, and you _aren't _my brother. So if you aren't America, then _who are you_?"

_...Shit._

"Mattie-" he started, then shook his head a couple times. He was caught out, time to stop acting. "Canada... just let me explain. Please."

Matthew continued to glare. "Never mind that. Answer my question."

If he just went and said outright that he was New York, he'd probably get beaten up by a Canadian wielding a hockey stick and a polar bear. If he said that he was Steven Kirkland-Jones, Canada might be confused enough that he could dart away before anything happened, but the nations held enough sway he'd probably get pulled over before he even made it out of the city. Anything else he tried to say wouldn't work, and he certainly couldn't just lie to the man's face. Not only would it fail spectacularly, but he would honestly feel kinda bad about it. Their dad loved his brother, and made sure that the states saw him as family despite having never met. They had pictures of him along with pictures of the rest of the family.

Pictures.

Hastily, before the answer was beat out of him – Canada was downright terrifying when anybody threatened America, and vice-versa – he pulled his phone back out of his pocket and started frantically scrolling through recent photographs. This was his phone, actually his, not his father's, so most of them were of the Manhattan skyline and of himself, but he found the one he was looking for along with some other photos he'd scanned onto his computer and downloaded.

"Here," he said, holding out the phone. "I'm third from the left, top row."

Family portraits were something that their father insisted on, every since he'd gathered up the original thirteen. A lot of the older ones were paintings, and even when photography came around, they could never sit still for long enough for the cameras to focus and he commissioned painters for them. Once photos got more advanced, they would go to a studio, and eventually he would hire someone privately, someone that wouldn't ask questions about the sheer number of them. The one Steven handed Canada had been taken about a month ago, with all fifty of them, and America proudly at the center of the group.

Matthew blinked once. Blinked twice. Glanced up at Matthew, then back at the phone, and shifted so he was leaning against the car, holding the phone with one hand and zooming in on some faces with the other, managing to balance Kumajiro as well.

"...That's a lot of blonde hair," he finally said.

Steven shrugged and tucked the phone back in his pocket. It had stayed mostly overcast for this part of the day, but it was starting to rain now, and the wind was picking up again. "We're pretty sure Dad used to look more like the indigenous tribes that lived here before colonization, but we all unfortunately take after a certain Englishman." He made a face, and rubbed self-consciously at his eyebrows. It was Rhodey that really bore the most resemblance, but they all looked a bit like England. "Now! I've got somewhere to be, so you can either crash with those people at the conference, or I'll explain in the car."

Without waiting for an answer, he took advantage of the fact that Matthew had moved to slide into the car and turn the key in the ignition. A moment later, the passenger door opened and Matthew sat down, buckling his seatbelt and putting Kumajiro on his lap.

"That bear of yours potty trained?" Steven asked mildly as he pulled out into the rainy traffic.

He could have sworn then and there that said bear was glaring at him, although Canada huffed out what might have been a laugh. "Yeah, he is, don't worry."

* * *

The Vermont mansion housing the fifty states had been in an interesting state – no pun intended – ever since New York had left.

The afternoon on the day Steven had left wasn't that bad. America slept for most of the day, save for when they woke him up to drink something and take medicine to keep his fever down, and the twelve oldest that were still there kept their thirty six younger siblings in line. They continued alternating who would stay in their father's room with him as they had been doing beforehand, something for which Massachusetts, at the moment, was immensely grateful. It was time to get all the kids into bed, which tended to take a solid hour or so, depending on how cooperative they were being.

He was a floor beneath all the ruckus, so save the occasional shout drifting down the stairs or a muffled thump from overhead, it was blissfully quiet.

"I don't think I've ever seen you sleep quite this much," he commented to the silent room. America was asleep, and it hurt to see him so pale. "I know you sleep, obviously, we would wake you up when we were little by jumping on your bed."

When America was still a budding nation, he spent most of his time in a Virginian colonial home, near some of the now-called Founding Fathers. They were all nice people, he remembered, very kind to him and his siblings. Martha liked kids. And any time something important was happening on a certain day, the thirteen would crowd into his room, giggling and trying to be quiet and stealthy, and bounce on their father's bed until he woke up. More often than not, he was already awake, and was lying there simply to humor them, but it was still a time of fond memories.

"But it's weird, seeing you like this." On impulse, he leaned over and pressed his hand to the nation's forehead. "You're supposed to be taking care of _us _when we're sick, not the other way around. And you're burning up, Dad. The least you could do is get some sleep once in a while!"

Another crash from upstairs, and the light pattering of footsteps. They got louder as whoever it was flew past the door, then faded away. Another set of footsteps came after that, heavier, and a moment later a harried-looking Jacob opened the door.

"Did Alaska come in here?"

"Nope." Patrick shook his head. "Just the two of us."

"Right. Thanks."

He shut the door and hurried off.

Patrick chuckled. "I know, we get it from you. It's genetic! That explains a lot."

More footsteps from outside, and with her customary blank expression, Alaska rushed into the room, shut the door behind her, and dove under the bed.

Patrick raised an eyebrow before getting down and pulling her out by her ankles. "Aria, you can't be in here right now. Dad needs to sleep, and you ought to be sleeping too."

"But I don't wanna sleep!"

"Sorry, kid." He sighed and knelt down so they were eye-level. "How about I buy you sunflowers when this is all over?"

She looked like she was considering it, purple-blue eyes narrowed in thought. "And vodka, da?"

"No," he said firmly. "Just because Russia has vodka does not mean you can have vodka. He is a six-foot-ten, fully grown nation, something which you are not. But I'll buy you a sunflower if you go to bed quietly."

She pouted. "Okay..."

It was one of the Dakota twins that opened the door this time, and they took Aria out and back upstairs, ignoring her protests. Hampshire came by later, nodded in satisfaction, then went to go take a well-deserved nap for himself.

* * *

The second day went by as smoothly as could be expected. Some of the states were starting to pick up on their father's absence, and the older ones didn't have that much of an answer to give them.

"Dad's very sick right now," they finally said, during an impromptu gathering. "And that's why he's sleeping in his room. But he's going to get better, okay? We just need to let him have lots of peace and rest, and he'll get better."

Despite most everything they had seen, the states had the mentality of their physical ages. It caused some pretty serious mood swings from time to time, Hawaii able to be dead serious one moment but then having a tantrum over his pineapple the next being one of the more notable events, but in this case it worked out. The childish half of them believed those words, even though part of them knew that a nation getting sick was a bad thing.

They had an odd sort of group luncheon in the living room, sprawled out across the floor with America occasionally dozing off on the couch.

* * *

Canada looked over at the man next to him. He looked almost exactly like Al, but now that he had confirmation that it wasn't his brother the differences were clear enough. They weren't _quite _the same height, and the blue of his eyes was ever so slightly off from America's. He'd styled his hair to match after the nation, but the length wasn't right. His overall appearance was slimmer, too. Not implying that Al was fat, but just that this man was positively stick-like.

"You haven't said who you are, yet."

The man jumped, as though he'd forgotten that the other nation was there – which he rather expected by this point, to be honest – and glanced over very briefly. The roads were slippery and the rain was pouring down in sheets, and it probably wasn't safe to be driving but he didn't have that much of a choice.

"Thought the picture made it obvious," he replied with a sort of half-shrug.

"Not really."

A sigh. "You count how many of us were in that photo?"

"Um... no?"

A slightly longer sigh. "Fifty, not counting Pops."

There was a very long pause, and Steven glanced over to see Canada staring blankly out the window, hardly blinking, mouthing _fifty _to himself ever now and again. "I didn't break you, did I?" he asked with some forced cheerfulness. "People would probably be upset about that."

"You're a _state_?" the nation squeaked out.

"Yeah. Steven Kirkland-Jones, also known as the state of New York, eleventh to join the Union."

"A _state_."

"I just said that, didn't I?"

It came out more irritably than he had originally intended, but he didn't have _time _to deal with this. Dad was already going to kill him when he woke up for breaking their secret to another nation, the states that had gone with Dad to the hospital were probably going to help...

Ah, who was he kidding. It was a seven hour car drive, he had plenty of time.

"Any other questions, or are you just gonna repeat yourself like a broken record?"

* * *

The third day was when things started to turn sideways.

The wind had howled all night long, the rain lashing against the sides of the house. Very few of the older states got a lot of sleep due to the fact that the younger states kept fleeing into their rooms whenever the storm got too noisy. Add the fact that they kept alternating every few hours to watch their father, and they were all very tired, and very harried, and very hopeful that today would go just as smoothly as the other two days had gone.

"_Virginia!"_

The bellow echoed through the house, and the twelve were scrambling towards the stairs, leaving Vermont and Kentucky in charge before vanishing. Rhode Island was doing his best to hold their father down, although the smallest state wasn't having very much luck against the nation, who was a solid foot and a half taller than him. Hampshire flew to his side, trying to stop America from lashing out in some delusion. His blue eyes were almost glassy and entirely unfocused, and his hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"Shit." Pennsylvania started pacing. "Shit, shit, shit, _shit, _fu-"

"Sylvia!" Virginia snapped. "North, South, keep the kids under control downstairs. Delaware, thermometer. Maryland, Connie, Jersey, get a bucket of cold water and some rags. Penn, clear out one of the guest rooms, we're moving Dad in there as soon as he calms down, Georgia, help her. Mass, give them a hand." She motioned to her two siblings still trying to keep America from hurting himself or someone else in his delirium.

"Dad?" Hampshire said, leaning over. "C'mon, Dad, it's us."

He made no sign he recognized any of them, or that he was even aware of what was going on around him, but at the familiar voice he stopped thrashing around as much.

Delaware tripped coming into the room, falling into a heap on the floor but bouncing right back up again, holding out a thermometer and breathing heavily. Virginia placed a hand against the side of America's face, grimacing at the heat she could almost feel radiating off of him.

"Dad," she said, echoing New Hampshire. "Dad, it's Virginia. Settle down for us, Dad, you're in the Vermont house, it's all right..." The other four in the room, seeing what she was doing, added to the calming mantra, mostly just repeating themselves and assuring their father that there was nothing wrong, that he could calm down, it was okay. When he settled enough, Virginia popped the thermometer into his mouth, and the others hesitantly relaxed their grip.

Maryland and Constance stumbled in next, carrying an aqua-colored plastic bucket full of water and ice cubes between the two of them, probably taken from Hawaii's stash of beach toys. New Jersey had his arms full of some old cloths, and room was quickly made for them to dip one in the water and place it over their father's forehead. America mumbled incoherently, shifting at the unexpected cold, but did not wake.

Pennsylvania poked her head around the door. "Georgia's got the bed made."

"Good." Virginia nodded shakily, and her hands were trembling when she read the results on the thermometer. "Damn!"

"What is it?" Hampshire plucked the thermometer out of her grip before swearing as well, although he was a good deal more creative. "One-oh-six-point-four."

"Hospital," Connecticut muttered. "We gotta get him to a hospital."

New Jersey blinked and motioned vaguely towards the window. "Um... there's kind of a hurricane. Or what's left of a hurricane. We can't drive."

"Fevers above a hundred and seven can cause permanent brain damage," she snapped back. The fact that their father was a nation didn't matter, his body was human. Unless the land was ravaged, the country abolished, or the people lost all faith, he couldn't _die_, but that didn't prevent injuries. "He's overworking himself, the economy's been keeping him down for years, we're still getting wildfires out west and this storm isn't helping. They're still cleaning up the oil spill down south, everyone's still recovering from the last hurricane to hit up here, and with everything in Massachusetts-" She sucked in a deep breath, cutting herself off. "We're states, yeah, and he's a nation, but we've got human bodies. We live and breathe and bleed just like everyone else. He needs to get to a hospital."

"She's right," Virginia agreed. "We can't just hang around here, his fever hasn't gone back down and it's been days."

"I'll call the Yankee," Mass volunteered, much paler than normal, already rummaging in his pocket for his cell phone. "If we have signal," he added as an afterthought.

"I'll..." Maryland shook slightly. "I'll stay behind. With the Carolinas, we need to keep the other states under control. All fifty of us can't go."

"So'll I," Georgia nodded solemnly.

"And us," Connecticut spoke up, nodding to Delaware next to her.

"We'll go tell North and South what's happening, and we'll figure out something to say to the others," Delaware added. "You guys just stay safe, drive carefully, all right?"

"We promise," New Hampshire said gently.

Massachusetts rushed back into the room, a bundle of coats in his arms and a pair of boots and socks balanced on top. "Got these for us. Someone help me get Dad's shoes on?"

They set to work with remarkable efficiency, half the group splitting off to go downstairs and the rest of them bundling up. America was still incoherent, but he wasn't as delirious as he had been. Massachusetts got a pair of socks on his feet, and then the boots (rubber, waterproof to keep his feet from getting soaked), while Rhode Island tugged a rain jacket onto his shoulders, zipping it up and plopping a hat onto his head. North, hearing what was going on, quickly packed away some extra clothes and some fruit into a large backpack for them. It was unsure as to how long they would be at the hospital, and they wouldn't be leaving to get food until they knew their dad was going to be all right.

"You're taking most of those layers off as soon as we get in the van," Jersey stated. "He shouldn't be bundled up like that, it'll raise his body temperature."

"How are we getting to the van in the first place?" Pennsylvania asked. "Should someone carry him?"

"I'll do it," Hampshire spoke up. Carrying a man bridal style wasn't something he did every day, but they were states, and therefore stronger than a normal human. It wasn't too much effort on his part, and unfortunately America had lost some weight in the days that he'd been sick.

"Right then." Virginia held the door open, and they hurried out as quickly as they could, Hampshire a bit more carefully so he didn't jostle their father. Rhodey grabbed a bunch of the cloths and followed after.

"The cloths, but not the bucket?" New Jersey asked dubiously.

"I can stick 'em out the window," he replied with a shrug. "It's raining hard enough, and I wanna feel like we're doing _something_."

North and South waved them off, dozens of wide-eyed states peering out from behind them in worry. There was very little any of them could do, though, and according to Massachusetts, Steven wouldn't be back for a good seven hours at best. And here they were, driving through a hurricane with a sick nation – something that wasn't technically supposed to happen.

This was shaping out to be a _wonderful _week.

* * *

**Ahaha, glad everyone seemed to like that cliffhanger. Only two more chapters to go!**

**In response to a lovely review, I _do _have some drawings of the states (although nowhere near as many as I'd like) and if you guys think I should, I can create a deviantART account where I can post them. Also, to any readers on the East Coast (where it is currently snowstorming again), stay safe!**


	7. Chapter 7

The staff in the emergency room were expecting to be very busy for the next few days. There were bound to be injuries from the storm, so they had all prepared themselves, going about the day as usual and taking care of the patients, but waiting in tense anticipation.

The woman at the desk glanced up as the doors rattled, but this time it was not from the wind. A moment later one of the doors was wrenched open, and a lone figure stepped halfway through, holding it in place but not coming into the room all the way. Then another person came in, carrying a third in their arms, and they were followed by four more. Everyone in the group was wearing raincoats, although they were still soaked to the skin, and the one being carried looked to have been hurriedly dressed over his pajamas.

"Please-" said the one holding the man. His hood had been blown off, and his hair was plastered onto his head. "Our brother, he's awfully sick, his fever's up past a hundred and six- please-"

He didn't seem to know how to continue, stammering through his plea, but there was already a nurse directing them to a small room off to the side and ask questions about what was happening. The six of them alternated who answered each question, although it didn't appear to be because they intended to deliberately confuse; it was more of an easy habit they fell into without realizing it.

Their names were Sylvia, James, Patrick, Jacob, Virginia, and Robert Jones, and their brother's name was Alfred Jones, no, he didn't have any allergies or regular medications he took, and no past medical problems either. One of them muttered something about a hero complex, but was promptly hit upside the head, and the nurse assumed that he had misheard the comment. He had gotten sick about two and a half days ago, possibly earlier, but they weren't sure since he had the tendency to run himself into the ground and not tell anyone. His fever had started at a hundred and two and stayed there, but it had shot up a little after the storm started. They had intended to wait the storm out, because they weren't going to drive through a hurricane if they could help it, but then he started getting delirious and lashing out at things. His fever was at a hundred and six last time they checked, and they weren't going to let it go any longer.

The nurse asked all of his questions, taking notes, and then proceeded to take Mr. Jones' blood pressure, pulse, temperature, and a couple other things. Once he had determined that this man was quite clearly ill (which they could all tell by looking at him, but procedure was procedure), he requested that they come out and submit the required medical information while Mr. Jones was brought to one of their exam rooms. A doctor would look over him there, after which point he would most likely be moved to intensive care, judging by how he looked. And yes, one of them was allowed to go with, and the rest would be able to see him afterward.

What then followed was a repetition of the same questions they had already been asked to Robert, who went with Mr. Jones, and the rather harrying process of filling out paperwork for the other five. The woman at the desk believed she might have heard something about the White House and false information, but decided she had to have been hearing things. These were just children, they wouldn't know anything about the White House!

For Robert, he answered many, _many _questions and explained the situation a couple times over, then did his best to wake up his brother in order for the doctor to better take his samples. Normally, he might be worried that the secret of the nations would come out if any doctor got their hands on their DNA, but as far as any of the government scientists could tell, they were perfectly normal humans, the only difference being that they didn't age, rarely got sick, and responded either positively or negatively to changes in their home country. Just _minor_ things like that.

The hospital was already packed full of patients, so even when they had finished filling out all the forms the group shuffled into the examination room, for there were no beds free just yet in the ICU. The doctors wished to admit Mr. Jones there just as a precautionary measure, and afterward he would be moved to a bed in the normal section of the hospital.

Mr. Jones' siblings, the doctors noted, didn't seem to be taking very many of their words in. They'd mentioned during the paperwork, after a comment about how young they all looked, that the one's actually filling out the paperwork were eighteen and therefore of age, and their brother was nineteen. No, they didn't have parents, it was just them, and a few other siblings as well. Poor dears, they must have taken care of themselves growing up, and to have their older brother suddenly ill!

* * *

The seven hour car drive looked like it was going to lengthen to an eight or nine hour car drive. The rain was coming down in sheets, Steven was cursing the fact that he had to drive through a damn _hurricane _just to get back to his family, and visibility was so low he couldn't go much more than thirty miles and hour on the highway. Add the fact that many of the roads were closed due to flooding, and they were in for a long ride.

Canada, on his part, had been remarkably calm about the whole thing. The revelation that his brother had fifty kids didn't seem to faze him too much, although considering the crazy stunts that said brother got up to sometimes, maybe he wasn't easily fazed anymore. Although if he wasn't shocked by this, Steven wasn't sure _what _would shock him.

"And your ages range from five to seventeen, judging by order of statehood?" he asked.

"Sort of," Steven agreed, squinting into the stormy weather. "The original thirteen, the ones Britain colonized, Dad found us before we ever became states. Patrick was crying in the aftermath of the Boston Massacre. Massachusetts, I mean. I just remember that I had to go somewhere, and I kept walking until I got to a house, where I knocked at the door and told him my name was New York, and then I asked for breakfast." A brief smile twitched at his lips, but it was quickly gone. "We appear around the general time that the people of the state start considering themselves to be separate. The state, then the country."

"I see." Truth be told, Canada looked slightly confused. Maybe he _was _fazed by all of this. Ah, well, not much he could do there.

"And a lot of the older one's have IDs saying they're twenty one, or eighteen. Possible both," he continued. Two hundred years of living and not being taken seriously could _suck _sometimes. Most of the time they used their ages for credit cards, or to apply to colleges when they got bored. Those were ordinary reasons, though, and the mood was awfully somber. "You've never been properly humiliated until you've lived for two hundred years and people tell you that you can't drink because you aren't old enough."

Canada snorted. The drive lapsed back into silence for a few minutes.

"So... have you ever done this before?"

"Done what?" He frowned, confused. "Driven through a hurricane? I haven't, but there was that one time Florida stole one of the cars when we were on vacation down south and went for a joyride..."

"No, no." Canada chuckled. "I mean... filled in for Al. At a meeting. None of the others really suspected anything, but we've... me and Al have known each other for centuries. We know when something's wrong with the other."

"Nah, this is the first time we've impersonated him," he assured. "Although we've come by as a secretary once or twice, just to fool as many people as we can. But we've never had to fill in _for _Dad at a meeting, since we never thought we'd had to. He's got tons of backup plans for us, you know, in case something goes wrong, but he never thought he'd have to miss a meeting like this. Nations don't get sick, you know?"

"Do you know what might have contributed to this?"

"Well, this storm, for one."

Steven glanced out the window at the sky before looking back at the road. Canada gave a humorless laugh.

"And he works too much," he continued, shaking his head. "He's got to manage all the states, the actual states, I mean, and while we can generally take care of ourselves I know he worries. And..." He sighed. "Well, a lot of stuff's been happening lately in the country. Bad stuff. Individually, I think he'd have been fine, but everything at once..." Steven shrugged helplessly, pressing his foot down on the gas pedal. "I just wish there wasn't a storm going on right now. I'd be able to catch a flight back, be there in less than four hours."

"They'll be fine until you get there," the Canadian assured him.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," he muttered. No reply. "...Sorry. I just hate being away from them when it's not my own free choice. We all leave occasionally, just because fifty of us in one house is a sure path to a migraine, but we always leave willingly, and we always come back. I _needed _to be here, and I can't be _there _even though I want to be, and they need me there as well. Sorry, Canada," he said again, quickly. "I'm rambling. Don't mind me."

"It's all right," he responded softly. "And I'm technically your uncle, aren't I? Call me Matthew."

* * *

Most of the drive was made in quiet, Steven driving at dangerously fast speeds through the rainstorm in order to get to the hospital and having Matthew read out the occasional text from one of his siblings. The young states were all fine, if a bit scared, and they'd moved America into the ICU. The further north they got, the worse the rain got, and Matthew had asked a few times if they should pull over, or perhaps slow down. Steven just shook his head and drove faster.

When they actually got to the hospital itself, he didn't bother locking the car (anyone who was willing to go out in the aftermath of a tropical storm to steal a car was an_ idiot_) and instead ran through the doors to the ER. Matthew followed him, going mostly unnoticed by all the humans, whose main focus was on the tired and frantic Steven. "Alfred Jones," he said quickly before he had even reached the desk. "He's in this hospital, right? I'm his cousin."

Having more than six siblings was unusual in this day and age, and having more than six siblings who were all the same age was starting to push it.

The woman at the desk offered a room number, and Steven did his best to run while not making too much noise. He found the room without too much trouble, and the moment he stepped through the door he was tackled by a blond blur.

"Steven," Virginia choked out, and they all crowded together, New York perhaps being the calmest out of all of them. He'd had the entire car drive to vent and fume and force himself to relax before he crashed the car, and he hadn't had to watch his father's prone form, motionless in the bed, the faint rise and fall of his chest and the steady beeping of the heart monitor the only indication that he was alive.

A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a blond head burrowed his face into his shoulder. Steven awkwardly patted his head while he wrapped his other arm around Virginia, who pulled Jersey and Hampshire over. Sylvia hugged him, squashing Mass in the process, and Rhode Island was trapped somewhere in the middle of them all.

"They say Dad's got the flu," Sylvia explained with a weak chuckle. "It seems so innocent when they say it like that, ha. But they've got him on an IV to keep him hydrated, and some antiviral drugs or something to help with the symptoms. North and South are making sure all the kids wash their hands really good and are in the process of disinfecting the household. We shouldn't catch this, considering our circumstances, but we want to make sure. And Dad's fever has already gone down by a degree or so since we got here. They want him to stay the night until they can get him in another hospital room, and then probably again tomorrow, and then we can take him back home."

Rhodey wriggled out from where he was stuck to go back to America's side. "Glad you got here in one piece, Steven."

"Same," Jersey nodded, trying to wipe at his eyes discreetly. Virginia had no such qualms about crying subtly, but tried to compose herself nonetheless.

Massachusetts lifted his head up briefly from his brother's shoulder, arms tightening slightly in their death grip around the other state's waist. "You tell anyone about this, Yankee, and I'll make sure I slaughter you in the next sports match, understand?" he said, voice hoarse from crying.

"My lips are sealed, Missie," York replied solemnly as his brother set his head back down on his shoulder.

The response was muffled, but audible. "Shut it."

"Make me."

"But won't they miss you at the meeting?" Virginia asked quietly, interrupting the familiar banter.

"Told them I had country stuff to attend to." Steven shrugged and waved towards the bed where their father was. "This qualifies as country stuff, don't you think?"

"Um..."

New Hampshire was staring at something just beyond Steven's shoulder. They turned, almost in unison, to look at Matthew, who waved sheepishly. York cringed. Right. Probably should have called to mention that at some point.

"Care to explain?"

* * *

**One more chapter. Eek!**

**I've created a deviantART page, by the by. There's nothing _there _yet, but you can find the link on my profile page. As always, I hope you enjoy! ^_^**


	8. Chapter 8

Jacob looked at Steven, who looked back at him, and the rest of the room looked between the two of them and Matthew, who was standing quietly by the doorway, holding Kumajiro.

"...That's Canada," Rhodey said, rather unnecessarily.

"Dad's brother," Sylvia added.

"And a nation," James pointed out.

"The nations don't know about us." Virginia turned a scrutinizing gaze on to Steven, who cringed slightly. Patrick didn't seem to care that a nation was in the room and continued clinging to his brother. "_Do _they?"

"No!" he said quickly. "No, no, just Matthew! He figured out that I wasn't Dad, although he didn't know I was a state."

"So you just decided to tell him about all of us?" she demanded.

"If I might?" the Canadian asked politely, and everyone shifted to focus on him again. He shuffled on his feet for a moment, then continued to speak quietly. "It's like if someone tried to impersonate one of you. Other people might be fooled, but you're siblings. _You'd _know it wasn't them, even if everybody else didn't. It's like you said... um..." He looked at Rhodey and tilted his head to one size.

"Rhode Island," the state supplied. "Robert Kirkland-Jones."

"Rhode Island, yes..." Matthew nodded slowly, absorbing the hyphenated name. "I'm Al's brother. I know who he is, and your acting is pretty good, Steven, but not quite enough."

"Hmph." Steven pouted, but it got a very weak chuckle, which was what he was aiming for. They needed something to lighten the mood.

There weren't enough chairs for them to all take a seat, probably because there wasn't supposed to be so many visitors at a time, but Sylvia had muttered something about a government phone call and they had all left it at that. Virginia took one seat, holding America's hand, and Canada perched himself on the edge of the mattress. Rhodey took the second seat, and the remaining five all settled themselves on the floor. Steven was still a little bit stunned at how clingy Patrick was being, but despite their ongoing rivalry, he supposed that they were still brothers in the end.

"Hey, Canada?"

The nation jumped at being remembered, and looked at Virginia. "Um... yes?"

"You're a nation," she murmured. "Dad's so independent that he doesn't quite have the... the wisdom, that the other's, the knowledge from experience. Which isn't a _bad _thing, but it... we don't..." She trailed off, shaking her head and looking blearily at her father's hand in her own.

"Get some sleep, Gin," Rhodey said gently. "You've living off coffee for the past two days, just get some sleep." Tired as she was, the state just folded her arms underneath her head as a pillow without complaint and positioned herself so her father's hand was resting on her back.

"I think what she's trying to say," the short state took over, "is... is this _normal_? We know that what happens in the land affects us, and it's possible for us to get hurt, but it takes a lot more than it would to hurt a normal person."

"It's not." Matthew shifted quietly. "It happens, but I guess I'm not surprised none of you knew what to do. This was a strange case, it was a mix of the land and the fact that none of us are infallible. Although I think Al might beg to differ."

They all chuckled slightly, then settled back into silence. It had been a long few days.

* * *

As it turned out, the moment America's fever had gotten back below ninety nine degrees – which was sometime in the afternoon the following day, and none of the states or the single nation had left his bedside yet – they discharged him with a regimen of medicine and strict orders not to overdo it. The worst of the storm had blown past during the night, and the hospital was being flooded with casualties, requiring them to have every room possible open.

Matthew had wheeled his brother, still not quite coherent from whatever painkillers they had been giving him, out to the car, and had helped the states get him situated. York decided that he would drive Matthew back to their Vermont home in his car.

All the states at home had been brought up to date on the situation. There were now two nations that knew about them, which was one too many, as far as they were concerned, but Canada was a nice guy and technically family. They could make an exception for him.

Hampshire carried America through the front doors, laughing when there was a round of applause and cheering from the states inside and America blinked sleepily at them. He set the nation down on one of the couches, leaving Vermont and Kentucky in charge of the younger ones again, while the thirteen eldest collapsed with weary sighs. One more conversation with Canada (and America, if he woke up enough) and they were _done._

"...Mattie?" the American slurred, peering up at him.

"Hey, Al," he replied with a gentle smile. "You gave everyone quite a scare, from what I heard."

"Nah..." He rubbed at one of his eyes. "'m th'ero."

"Speaking English would be nice, Father," North chuckled.

"Or just plain American would do," South added on. "Since that guy across the pond is determined to convince you that what you speak is not _proper _English."

They all laughed, but then America shot bolt upright and looked frantically between the states and Canada. "What-"

"_Chill_, Dad." Sylvia tutted and pushed him back down. "We had to bring you to a damn hospital in the middle of a freaking _hurricane_, you aren't doing any kind of government shit for at least a week."

"Hurricane?" he frowned. "_Hospital_? What-?"

"Technically it wasn't a hurricane," Patrick amended. "Tropical storm at worst, once it got here, but it _sucked_, let me tell you. My state's all like 'get the bread and milk!' and freaking out."

"We found you asleep with your laptop still open," North put in. "Three in the morning, really?"

"We're up until four half the time," South pointed out.

"Not relevant."

"Remember? You were sick and insisting you were fine, and kept throwing up into a bucket we stole from Hadwin?" Maryland prompted. "You're going to have to apologize to him for that, by the way. And probably buy him a new bucket."

"Yeah, I..." America scratched his neck. "I remember that much, and something about you guys taking my place at the meeting? But after that..."

"That would have been me." York raised his hand. "I've got Broadway, I'm the best actor here."

"That might be California, actually," Mass countered.

"Quiet, Missie."

"Screw you, Yankee."

"Anyway." York cleared his throat. "Uncle Mattie kinda found me out, since he knows you really well, but I fooled all the other nations and told them I had country stuff to attend to when I got word you were being hospitalized. And he insisted on coming with me, so here we are."

"They won't notice I'm gone," Matthew shrugged. "I'm not really noticeable."

"We'll notice you," Rhode Island smiled. "Unfortunately, that makes you a member of our insane family, and you'll have to attend the holiday dinners." He shook his head ruefully. "I'm still finding bits of turkey whenever I go into the downstairs bathroom."

Matthew decided that he'd rather not know.

"We've got plenty of guest rooms you can stay in," Virginia said, patting him on the shoulder as she stood up. "Now, York's been up since sometime yesterday morning, as have all of us, so I'm going to recommend that we all sleep. All in favor?"

All the states raised their hands, even as they got up to leave. America gave the ceiling a dopey grin.

"Democracy," he said, pumping a fist in the air halfheartedly. "Great stuff."

Matthew chuckled, then yawned, but he didn't want to leave his brother's side. This was a lot to take in, and they'd have a lot to talk about later.

"I get why you kept it a secret," he said, instead of any of the millions of other things he could have come out with, most of them accusations. "It would be bad if anyone found out and tried to take them, use them against you. Although it does make me wonder about my provinces... Eh, you never know."

America cracked open a sleepy eye to look at him. "Thanks, man," he murmured. "We can... I dunno, talk. Later. If you want?"

"Later," he agreed, as Kumajiro crawled up onto America and decided he made a better pillow than Canada's lap. "After you're up and around and I'm awake."

They'd have a good deal that they would need to talk about later, but for now, with the sun peeking through the clouds outside, they were content to sleep.

* * *

While some of the nations had trouble putting up with Alfred for extended periods of time, it was a relief to all of them to see him at the world meeting the following month. It was slightly off-putting to see two unfamiliar men flanking him on either side, but they chose to ignore it for the time being. It would be impossible to get through the front doors if one didn't have the proper clearance, so they had authority to be here, and that was that. America didn't look very happy at having the two of them holding him by either arm, but he wasn't protesting. He still looked rather weak from his brief illness, despite it happening so long ago, and they couldn't help but wonder how much the personification dealt with in his country.

"Hey, dudes." America cracked a smile at the room. "Hope you haven't all gone to hell in a handbasket while the hero's been away."

That broke the tension, and Italy slammed past the nations in front of him to tackled America in a surprisingly strong hug.

"Ve~!" he shouted. "America, we were so worried, you know! You cannot get sick like that!"

Matthew's absence had been noted, surprisingly, and Germany didn't seem to want to take 'country stuff' as an excuse for missing one of their meetings. The states convened for a brief Congress, which was mostly full of arguing, Hawaii demanding pineapple, Alaska turning a lead pipe over in her hands while a strange purple aura surrounded her, and the Dakota twins sneaking underneath the table and tying everybody's shoelaces to the shoelaces of the person next to them.

After a good argumentative session, America held his hand out towards a slightly terrified Canada. The nation, after a brief explanation, handed him a hockey stick, which he proceeded to beat against the table until everyone quieted down. The process had to be repeated several more times before they actually came to a conclusion, and America leaned back in his chair with an exhausted murmur of 'Democracy!' while everyone left.

They had been hiding for far too long. He knew he had enemies, but his kids were older than they had been when he first found them, they could take care of themselves. They had each other to rely on, and they had him, and he wasn't going to try and tuck them out of sight any more.

"You just can't, then everybody starts freaking out and you will become deprived of your pasta, and we all missed you so very much America and-!"

Shaking his head, Germany walked forwards and pulled the hyperactive nation back by his collar so America could breathe. The two mystery men watched in amusement.

"_Guten tag, Amerika,_" he said with the slightest upward quirk of his lips. It was the closest thing to a smile they were likely to get out of him. "It is good to have you back with us."

"Da, is very good!" Russia agreed cheerfully. The Baltic nations shivered, and the two unnamed people shuffled to America's other side to create a barrier between the two.

"What the bloody hell do you think you were doing?" England muttered, berating and poking at his former colony even as he squashed him into a rather undignified hug. "Overworking yourself like that, didn't I teach you better?"

America made to reply, but France cut in.

"_Onhonhonhon_," he cackled. "So does that mean _Monsieur Angleterre _is responsible for _Amerique's _exuberance and rebellious tendencies?"

"Shut up, you blasted frog!"

The two men glanced at each other, then at the two nations brawling on the floor. A couple nations were starting to realize that they bore a rather strange resemblance to America, but that couldn't mean anything...

"France and England?" the one on the left asked.

"France and England," the one on the right replied. They both had slightly different accents, but both decidedly _American_.

The one on the left huffed. "I _still _can't believe you dumped all the tea into _my _harbor. Couldn't you have done it somewhere else? Do you have any idea how _long _it took for that to stop smelling?"

"Your memory's getting foggy in your old age, Missie. You _helped _dump the tea into your precious harbor."

"Shut up, York."

"Make me!"

America looked at the two nations brawling it out on the floor, then at the two arguing at each other without really acknowledging that he was standing between them, and tried to make a break for one of the chairs, slipping out of their grasp. Without breaking his tirade, the man on the left caught him by the sleeve and pulled him back.

"You fell out of your chair this morning trying to walk, Dad," he said when he paused to take a breath and the one on the left took over. "Stay put."

"I tripped over Aria's lead pipe, I'm _fine_-"

"We voted! Democracy, remember?"

He turned back in time for a rather creative insult on what exactly he could do with his tea, and launched off into a tirade. America dropped his head into his hands, but the two looked about ready to start dealing blows, and he managed to shuffle away this time.

"...Did he just say Dad?" Hungary shot him a very pointed look.

America gave an awkward laugh and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, um... Massachusetts is wearing the Red Sox sweatshirt, New York is the taller one."

Germany blinked. "That... those are states of yours, _ja_?"

America nodded, glared at the two, then slapped them both upside the head. The two flinched, then glared. He just jerked a thumb in the direction of the now-stunned nations, and England and France, who were still trying to strangle each other.

"Right!" New York, the one on the right, smiled calmly, as though he hadn't just been throwing death threats at his brother, and held out his hand. "Hello! I'm the state of New York, also known as Steven Kirkland-Jones."

Germany took the offered hand on autopilot, still trying to process.

"Massachusetts," the one on the left said, and shook his other hand. "Just call me Patrick."

"Ah... a pleasure to meet you." They both nodded and stepped back, and Germany blinked several times. "If two of you are states... are there others?"

"Fifty," Steven confirmed. "Including the two of us. A bunch of the others wanted to be here today, but Pops limited us to two."

With a sidelong glance at England, still battling it out with France, Patrick raised his voice slightly to be heard over their arguing. "We, that is to say, the thirteen original colonies, have been keeping an eye on him!"

It was doubtful if the two of them had heard anything that had occurred in the last five minutes, but that got England to stop and stare at them. New York chuckled and hauled the nation to his feet, dusting his jacket off.

"Close your mouth, Redcoat," he admonished. "You'll catch flies."

England's mouth snapped shut with an audible click.

America shrugged at the stunned looks he was receiving. "Hey, I couldn't just let you guys all know that I had a bunch of kids running around. You'd have tried to take them from me!"

Steven clapped his father on the shoulder. "C'mon, Dad, we can take care of ourselves."

"I _know_, Steven, that's why you're here. Now can you let go of me?" He looked at his arms pointedly.

"You fell over when you tried to get up this morning," Massachusetts deadpanned. "We aren't leaving."

"Aria left her pipe on the floor," he repeated with a glare. "I just want to walk to my chair, that's _it_!"

"Not leaving."

"Patrick Kirkland-Jones-!"

"Do you want us to start singing?"

America suddenly looked both mutinous and fearful. "Fine. Help me to my chair, oh dearest sons who would never, _ever _blackmail their poor father for any reason whatsoever."

The states both beamed. "Of course, Father, we would be delighted!"

"Music?" Austria's eyes had lit up in a rare show of emotion.

"Ve~! I like singing, America! Don't you like singing, Germany? I like singing! Why shouldn't they sing?"

America, now sitting, turned to his sons with wide eyes. "Now, don't you _dare_- Massachusetts, I forbid you-!"

Too late. The two threw their arms over each others shoulders and were loudly belting out a familiar tune, overriding his protests.

"_Gooooodddd bless Ameeerricaaaa... laaaannnd that I loooovve..."_

Canada, who had remained silent for the whole time, having known about everything beforehand, doubled over in a sudden fit until he was slumped over in his chair, sucking in gasps of air between bouts of giggling. Japan looked confused.

"But this is song in praise of your country, yes?" he asked. "Why would you be upset...?"

"_Stand beside __**her, **__and guide __**her, **__through the night with a light from abooooove...__"_

America let his head drop onto the table with a thud as the other nations broke out into laughter.

"Thanks, guys," he muttered into the wood of the conference table, but with his hair hiding his face, he smiled.

It was good to be back.

* * *

Downstairs, those who worked in the building in order to manage the influx of one hundred and eighty-nine personified countries and therefore were used to the screaming matches, loud noises, broken and damaged property, frequent visits by ambulances and the occasional explosion, were incredibly confused at the sound of uproarious laughter.

* * *

**It's... done? I'm a little bit lost as to what to do, honestly. First multichapter story that I've finished. Huh.**

**Anyway, a great big _humongous_ thank you to every single wonderful person that's read and reviewed and favorited and followed this story. Seriously, I didn't think I'd get any response to this, but look at you all! You're all amazing!**

**As for sequels, there are a few kind of hesitantly planned out. I went through the trouble of coming up with individual names and appearances for _everyone_, and I don't have plans just to stop here. There's a couple of one-shots up on my profile page that are also set in this 'verse, so you can go check those out as well. And you can also find a link to my deviantART page as well! There's nothing up there yet, but hopefully I'll start getting profiles for the states up soon.**

**Until the next time!**


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